A little bit about my history with pest control: I moved into a new home in what I would call a neighborhood with potential. You know the deal; the gutters were askew, the yard was more dirt than grass, and the water was a little brown. But I was dead set on not only making this place livable; I was going to make it nice.
Now, I've always had a fear of bugs. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing pathological. I just didn't and don't think our species should observe cohabitation. Suffice it to say, I have no problem stomping the life out of one. I'll occasionally make an exception for a spider -- as they supposedly kill lots of nasty bugs (or so every person that's not afraid of spiders will tell you).
My new home had a serious bug problem. The walls seemed to move with unwanted visitors. There were bugs in attic, bugs in the sink, bugs in the garage, and worst of all; there were bugs in the kitchen. There was a roach so big in my washing machine, I could've saddled the thing and ridden it to work. I didn't have the money to call an exterminator, and I had no experience with pest control on this scale. This was going to take more than a can of Raid or a rolled up copy of People. This was going to take some elbow grease.
